


Echoes

by jjmash



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kid Fic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjmash/pseuds/jjmash
Summary: Stiles accidentally creates a lifelike echo of Derek's baby sister who died in the Hale fire. Between games of tag and trips to the zoo, Derek helps Stiles pick up the pieces of himself.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 134





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> CW: references to suicide
> 
> I'm imagining that the events of season 3B happened during Stiles' senior year and that this fic is taking place the summer after he graduated from high school. Also I feel like the summary doesn't fully convey all the angst here, but I promise the ending is happy.

Derek frowns when he finds Stiles’ unmistakable blue Jeep parked in his driveway after work one day. It wouldn’t have been a concern six months ago, but Stiles hasn’t been to the house since they finished renovations the previous spring. 

Stiles hasn’t really been anywhere since the Nogitsune attack; technically, Derek hasn’t even seen him for the past several months. But Derek has found himself perched on the Stilinskis’ roof late into the night more often than not, counting each of Stiles’ heartbeats and matching them to his own. He still isn’t sure exactly why he continues to do it, only that it seems to assuage some of the intense anxiety he’s been feeling since the day they realized that Stiles wasn’t alone in his body.

Derek wants to believe that Stiles’ sudden appearance now is a sign that he’s decided to return to his old habit of showing up at Derek’s place at random, but Derek knows that it’s more likely due to some impending, life-threatening danger. When Stiles steps onto the front porch and closes the door behind him before Derek is even out of his car, he has confirmation that it’s the latter.

As Derek draws closer to the younger man he can see the little cracks that have formed in Stiles’ image over the past months: his hair has grown long and unruly, his skin is paler than ever, and his Captain America t-shirt hangs too loosely off of his jutting shoulder blades. Stiles is also wearing an expression of such deep anguish that Derek drops his briefcase in the grass and practically sprints to close the distance between them.

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles is silent for a beat too long, and Derek starts to brush past him to the door.

“No!”

It’s the first time Derek has heard Stiles speak in weeks and it’s not the frightened plea that makes him stop in his tracks, but the sound of the other man’s voice. The same voice that used to tease him and ramble on endlessly about everything under the sun sounds rough from disuse.

“Derek…” Stiles fidgets uncomfortably on the front porch, a habit that is as comfortingly familiar as it is annoying. 

Derek crosses his arms over his chest and waits for the disjointed explanation that he knows is forthcoming.

“I didn’t mean to,” is all he gets, spoken by Stiles in a distressingly small voice. 

“What did you do?”

“I promise it was an accident.”

 _“Stiles.”_ Derek is well and truly concerned now, and Stiles still won’t meet his eye.

“My magic created an echo of someone,” he says quietly. “But she’s not real, I didn’t actually bring her back.”

Derek’s mind is whirling as he processes what Stiles is telling him. _Bring her back._ He sees flashes of Laura, of his mother, and - oh god please no – of Kate. 

“Who, Stiles?”

Stiles doesn’t answer, but his guilty glance at the closed door is enough of a response. This time he doesn’t try to stop Derek when he pushes open the front door with trembling hands, unsure of who will be waiting for him on the other side.

He hears her before he sees her; not unlike Stiles, she always had a habit of chattering to herself. The familiar, high-pitched voice is enough to send shards of glass through his consciousness, flooding him with painful memories of home and family and safety. And then his baby sister is running towards him, and when he bends to enfold her in his arms and swing her up into the air it’s pure muscle memory.

“Mia?”

It takes him some time to realize that she has no scent, no heartbeat. Stiles’ magic created only a shadow of the youngest Hale, but she looks so real. Derek spends ten minutes barely breathing, trying in vain to wrap his head around what he’s seeing. Mia looks, sounds, even _feels_ like herself, and Derek is certain that he’s dreaming, or that he’s been drugged somehow. But then she asks him where the others are, and he snaps back to reality with painful abruptness.

“They’re on a trip,” he chokes out, and her big eyes peer into his as she nods, still willing to believe anything her older brother tells her. 

Stiles hovers in the living room while Derek re-meets his baby sister, or at least this version of her. 

“I can go get groceries, maybe some toys for her,” Stiles says in a hushed voice while Mia is occupied in front of the TV. 

“Will you stay?” Derek doesn’t mean to ask it, but it’s out before he has time to pull the words back in. He knows it sounds desperate, and it is – he doesn’t want to be alone with Mia, but he’s also startled by how unwilling he is to let Stiles leave. He’s missed Stiles, and it’s been long enough that Derek is willing to admit it.

Stiles stares at him for a moment, and Derek thinks about how he used to be able to read Stiles’ every emotion with a single glance. Something behind his eyes is shuttered now, unreadable.

“Yeah,” Stiles finally says. “I’ll go grab a few things, and then I’ll stay.”

Neither of them defines for how long, but Derek thinks even just one night might be enough if that’s all he’s allowed to have.

Mia talks almost constantly, so much that even Stiles has trouble getting a word in edgewise. Derek had forgotten how talkative she was, how she used to make up stories for whoever bothered to listen; hearing her voice as constant background noise in the house she never finished growing up in makes him feel like his chest is being ripped open and sewn back together with a dull needle.

In between the pain of it all, Derek feels Stiles watching him. He’s not sure what the other man sees on his face, but he’s glad that Stiles doesn’t say anything.

Mia’s endless stream of chatter seems to taper off around the same time that the sun sets, so Derek bundles her into his arms and tucks her carefully into the guest bed that no one’s ever slept in. She looks impossibly small and Derek is absurdly afraid of breaking her. He used to toss her into the air just to hear her giggle, but now he’s worried she’ll shatter if he breathes on her wrong.

Stiles takes the couch, even after Derek tells him to take Isaac’s room; Stiles hasn’t been able to so much as look at any of the other pack members in recent months, so it’s not really a surprise that he doesn’t want to spend any measure of time in Isaac’s space. Derek lets the familiar thump of Stiles’ nearby heartbeat lull him to sleep.

Derek wakes to the sound of his bedroom door opening. Tear tracks shimmer on Stiles’ cheeks in the dappled moonlight and Derek lifts up a corner of his comforter before he has time to think about it. Stiles climbs in next to him wordlessly, curling himself into a tight ball at the edge of the mattress. Still half asleep, Derek reaches over and pulls the other man into his chest, rolling onto his side to hook an arm around Stiles’ shaking body. He can feel Stiles relax into him, unfurling slowly so that their bodies are pressed together in a long line. Derek nuzzles his chin into the crook of Stiles’ neck and is asleep before his next exhale.

When Derek wakes again, sunlight is casting warm patterns across the ceiling and the space beside him in bed is cold and empty. For the first time in a very long time, Derek is disappointed to wake up alone. 

But Stiles didn’t leave. Derek finds him in the kitchen, his hair shining in the early morning light where he stands over the stove. Derek leans against the doorway and traces the angles of Stiles’ profile with his eyes for a silent moment. Stiles looks over at him, almost smiles when he tilts his head to the living room. Mia is there, snuggled under an oversized blanket on the couch and nodding along with the cartoons playing on the TV. Derek drops down beside her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and when she smiles up at him through half-closed eyes it’s easy to forget that she isn’t real. 

Stiles brings them each a stack of pancakes and carefully places a mug of steaming hot coffee on the end table for Derek, then sits cross-legged on the couch to eat breakfast with them. Stiles seems to be as interested in the cartoons as Mia is, even singing along with a few of the theme songs. It’s the youngest that Derek has seen him look in months – like a shadow of the old Stiles is peaking through the damaged facade.

Later that morning, Derek sits on the back porch with his book but he doesn’t even bother pretending to read it. Instead he watches Mia bound around the backyard, yelling and giggling as she plays with an enthusiastic Stiles. He tries not to think about how it makes his heart soar.

Derek calls Peter just before lunchtime and he’s there before they’re finished eating. 

“Uncle Pete!” Mia cries out in excitement, launching herself at the frozen werewolf. His eyes flutter closed when her arms wrap around his neck, and Derek knows that Peter is remembering a time when he could still hold his own little girl in the same way.

Peter meets his eyes over Mia’s head and Derek nods slowly, answering his unasked question: _it’s her_. Peter tightens his hold on his niece.

The three of them spend the afternoon together, and it’s almost possible to forget how many people aren’t there with them. Peter slips back into a version of his old self, teasing and laughing easily like the fun uncle that Derek now only has vague recollections of from his childhood. 

They color using the art supplies that Stiles insisted on buying and Mia furrows her brow as she concentrates in a way that is so typically _Hale_ it makes Derek want to cry. It’s been so long since he’s seen that expression anywhere other than his own mirror. 

Mia thrusts her completed picture at Peter triumphantly, and he treats it like a priceless work of art as he prompts her to explain her inspiration.

Mia jabs a chubby little finger at one of the colorful blobs on the paper. “That’s Laura,” she says. 

If Derek squints, he thinks he can make out his older sister’s dark hair and the purple sweater that she’d once refused to take off for a solid week when she was twelve. Mia points at the next blobs in the line, naming each of the Hale family members in turn. The last one is Stiles, who Mia has apparently decided is worthy of honorary Hale status.

By the time she’s done explaining the picture, Peter’s eyes are bright with unshed tears. 

“Can I keep this?” he asks quietly, for once nothing other than earnest sincerity in his tone.

Mia nods enthusiastically and immediately gets to work on another picture.

Peter doesn’t come to the house again, and Derek doesn’t blame him.

Derek tucks Mia into her too-big bed carefully that night, smoothing the blanket around her like his mom used to. After three bedtime stories from Stiles – with Derek providing occasional commentary – she finally drifts off to sleep. Derek stands watch for an extra few minutes, counting her tiny breaths like each one is a gift, and then drops into his own bed with a sigh.

They don’t discuss sleeping arrangements, but sometime after midnight Derek feels the mattress dip under Stiles’ weight once again.

“I’m so tired,” Stiles whispers into the darkness.

Just like he had the night before, Derek wraps himself around Stiles like he can physically ward off the nightmares. 

“Sleep,” he says.

Derek doesn’t wake up alone that morning. They’ve shifted during the night so that they’re facing each other when Derek opens his eyes, Stiles’ mouth pressed into Derek’s throat and his breathy little huffs sending warm puffs of air across Derek’s collarbone. Even in sleep, Stiles looks exhausted; dark circles appear permanently etched beneath his eyes, his cheeks sunken and his face just the wrong side of too thin. Derek thinks he’s beautiful.

The bubble of morning contentment bursts when Mia throws herself over both of them, giggling at Derek’s surprised grunt when she knees him in the chest. Stiles rubs his eyes sleepily, peering out at Derek from beneath a curtain of Mia’s dark hair.

“Is it animal day?” she asks happily, unaware of the tension that hangs between the two men on the bed.

Derek smiles as he remembers the countless Hale family trips to the zoo, a tradition that Derek and Laura had fought to get out of as teenagers.

“Sure, we can go see the animals,” he tells his little sister.

Mia remembers the layout of the zoo and pulls them from exhibit to exhibit, squealing over the animals with unrepressed glee. When they approach the wolf sanctuary, Derek swings her up onto his shoulders so she can wave at them.

“That one’s Laura,” she says, pointing to a large gray wolf. “And there’s Cora, and Daddy.”

“Which one is Mom?” Derek asks her, his voice rough as he swallows past the lump in his throat.

She ponders it for a moment, then uses her grip on Derek’s hair to turn his head in the direction of the beautiful dark wolf that stands above the others on a rocky ledge. “There’s Mama,” she says authoritatively. 

Stiles places a hand on Derek’s bicep and squeezes, seeming to realize that Derek has lost the ability to speak.

“Let’s go look at the gift shop,” Stiles says quickly. He gently lifts Mia down from Derek’s shoulders and hefts her up onto his own back instead, taking a bit of Derek’s burden as easily as he always has. Derek follows along beside them in a daze, his surroundings fading to the background as memories of past family outings overlap with reality.

Mia falls in love at first sight with a giant stuffed wolf that’s nearly as tall as she is, and Derek is pulling out his wallet to pay for it before she even asks. 

“You’re spoiling her,” Stiles jokes at the checkout counter, his expression fond.

Derek glances over at Mia, who’s busy affectionately petting her new friend. “You’re the one who wanted to buy her an ice cream cone before she’d even eaten lunch,” he points out.

Stiles looks affronted. “It’s practically written in the constitution that kids are allowed to ruin their appetites with Dippin’ Dots at the zoo.”

Derek shakes his head, but he’s smiling. The woman behind the cash register beams at them as she swipes the credit card, and Derek realizes for the first time what the three of them must look like to everyone else; Derek is too old now to have a five year old sister, but he’s the right age to be a young parent. His heart surges in a terrifyingly pleasant way as he imagines bringing home a little baby with Stiles’ big brown eyes.

Mia falls asleep on the way home, her tiny arms clenched tightly around ‘Wolfy.’ Stiles is unusually quiet in the passenger seat, staring out his window thoughtfully at the setting sun.

“I’m so sorry,” he says suddenly, turning toward Derek.

Derek checks the rearview mirror to make sure Mia is still sleeping. “What for?” he asks.

“For this whole situation. If it were my mom…” Stiles trails off.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know this would happen.” Derek spares a quick glance at the man next to him. “What were you trying to do, anyway?”

Stiles looks down at his hands guiltily. “I thought it was supposed to let you relive a memory, like the pensieve from Harry Potter, you know?”

“What memory?” Derek asks.

Stiles just shakes his head, either unwilling or unable to talk about it. “I still don’t know exactly why it happened. Deaton said it’s temporary, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

Derek keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him and tries to sound casual as he asks, “Are you sure it’s not permanent?”

Stiles’ voice is unbearably kind but certain as he responds, “I’m sure.”

Derek nods. He knew that it couldn’t last forever, but his traitorous imagination was already flooding his mind with images of a future that could never be: relaxed dinners at the kitchen table filled with laughter and messiness, crying through first loves and first rejections, college applications, graduation ceremonies...

And Stiles. Somehow, in Derek’s dreams, Stiles is there for it all too.

Stiles doesn’t even bother trying to sleep on the couch that night. They still don’t talk about it, but it’s enough for Derek just to have him there, sleeping with him but not really _with_ him. 

Derek wakes up sometime in the early morning to the sound of Stiles’ panting breaths and pounding heart, sickly-sweet terror rolling off him in waves. He moves back to give Stiles room to breathe but keeps a hand on the other man’s jaw, stroking soothing lines down the curve of his face while he murmurs comfortingly into his ear.

“Real,” Derek repeats over and over again. “This is real.”

He helps Stiles count until his breathing evens out a little and he aches at the thought of all the nights that Stiles has woken up alone in the dark, reliving the worst moments of his life and unsure if his body still belongs to him. Not for the first time, Derek curses the universe for the lot it has dealt the young man lying next to him.

The Sheriff shows up at the house early the next day, squinting beneath his sunglasses and with his hands on his hips in a pose that screams law enforcement officer. John looks at Mia, coloring at the kitchen table and sporting smaller versions of Derek’s features, and then over at his son, who’s smiling to himself as he makes her breakfast. 

“Something you want to tell me?” John asks Derek. 

Derek calls Stiles over to explain because he’s never been very good at talking to the man who reminds him so strongly of his own father. The Sheriff rests a heavy hand on Derek’s shoulder once the story’s been told, frowning sympathetically. 

“I’ve still got some of Stiles’ old toys in the garage, his mom could never seem to get rid of them. I’ll bring them over later today.”

Derek nods his thanks and only hesitates a little before he says, “You could stay for dinner, if you want.”

Derek wants to regret the offer as soon as he’s made it, but Stiles looks so happy at the idea of it that he simply can’t.

John does come for dinner, and Derek thinks it feels more natural than it should to have the older man sitting at the table with them. He pulls Mia onto his lap after dessert to regale her with G-rated police stories while she giggles delightedly at the attention. 

“He’s always been good with kids,” Stiles says proudly as he and Derek wash dishes.

“He’ll be a good grandfather one day,” Derek agrees.

“Not that anyone would ever trust me with a kid.” Stiles says it jokingly, but Derek can sense the genuine insecurity that underlies the statement. He shuts off the water and turns so that Stiles is forced to look at him. 

Derek wishes Stiles could hear his heartbeat to know he’s not lying when he says, “You’d be an amazing parent, Stiles.”

Stiles looks like he doubts it, and Derek kind of wants to punch something. “You practically parented the whole pack through high school, and you’ve been great with Mia. You’ll be a good dad.”

The tips of Stiles’ ears turn red and he doesn’t respond except to mumble a quiet “thanks.” 

Derek waits until they’re in bed together and the world is still and silent before he brings it up again. 

“Why do you think you’d be a bad father?”

He can feel Stiles tense slightly against his chest but he doesn’t pull out of Derek’s grasp. “I don’t think my brand of fucked up would make for very good parenting.” His tone is as light as it was earlier in the day but his heart beats erratically.

“You’re not fucked up, Stiles.” Derek presses his lips right up against Stiles’ ear as he says it, and he can feel the full-body shiver that it elicits from the other man. 

“I can’t even sleep through the night,” Stiles says dubiously, his voice breathy. 

“You sleep fine when you’re with me.”

It’s the closest they’ve come to discussing whatever it is they’ve been doing for the past three nights. Stiles doesn’t respond, just shifts his weight slightly so that he’s pressed even closer to Derek and tangles their legs together beneath the sheets. Derek drifts off with his nose buried in Stiles’ hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and feeling safer than he has since he was fifteen.

The days seem to blend together and they settle into a routine as an odd little family unit. It feels like it’s always been Derek and Stiles and Mia, and the three of them are Derek’s entire universe for the next two weeks. He doesn’t think about the inevitable expiration date, just focuses on spending his every waking moment with his little sister and his every sleeping one with Stiles.

Mia asks once more about the rest of the pack, wondering why Mama and Daddy are still gone and where her older sisters are. Derek has to leave the room, so Stiles patiently makes excuses and deflects until Mia is sufficiently distracted.

When she’s fully occupied with one of the games that John had dug up from the boxes of Stiles’ baby things, Stiles joins Derek in the hallway.

He sits down next to him on the floor, their shoulders touching. Derek rests his head in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees, and stares down at the patterns in the hardwood. 

“I can’t do it,” he admits. 

He doesn’t explain, but Stiles seems to understand anyway; Derek can’t survive losing Mia again. Stiles doesn’t say anything because nothing he can say will make a difference, but he puts a comforting hand on Derek’s back and leaves it there for a long time.

Mia begins to fade away sixteen days after Stiles’ magic created her. At first she just looks a little paler than usual, her skin almost translucent as she eats her waffles in the morning sunlight. Then her steps are oddly light when she plays tag with Derek and Stiles in the backyard, like the next gust of wind might blow her off her feet and carry her away from them. The Sheriff stops by on his way to the station and the hug that she gives him is weak. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression is pained when he says goodbye.

It becomes unavoidable when Derek picks Mia up and her body is limp and light in his arms. He carries her to bed and climbs in next to her, Stiles kneeling on the floor beside the both of them. Derek cradles his little sister to his chest, this tiny and precious piece of himself, and wishes desperately for more time. Mia’s hands are buried in the fur of her stuffed wolf when she asks for a story. Derek doesn’t know where the strength to speak comes from, but he knows that he can’t deny her this final request.

“Once upon a time, there was a little princess named Amelia. She lived in a big house in the woods with her Mama and Daddy, and her two sisters and one brother. She wasn’t afraid of anything, not even wolves…”

It’s a familiar bedtime story, one that Derek used to tell her back when it was still a description of reality and not just a fairytale. By the time the happily ever after comes, Mia’s entire being is flickering in and out of existence. 

“I love you,” Derek whispers into her ear. 

She fades out of his arms before he knows if she heard him, not leaving so much as a scent behind when she vanishes once more from his life. 

Derek doesn’t realize that he’s crying until Stiles slides into bed with him and starts gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. When it becomes clear that they won’t stop coming anytime soon, Stiles presses Derek’s face to his chest and lets his t-shirt soak them up instead. 

Derek grabs at Stiles like a lifeline, howling into him with shaking wails that seem to come from his very core. Stiles just lets him cry, rubbing his back until the tears run dry and Derek is numb to the world. 

He isn’t sure if he sleeps or not. He has brief moments of wakefulness when Stiles tips water down his throat or forces him to chew a few bites of food, and he spends the rest of the time staring at the ceiling over the bed that his sister slept in, hugging her stuffed wolf like he can recreate the feeling of holding her. He’s long since blocked out most of the things he felt after the fire, but the way that his soul is splintered into millions of jagged pieces is familiar. This time there is no Laura to help fit them back together again.

It could be days or weeks later when Scott shows up at the house. Derek hears the rumble of his bike coming up the road and then the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat as he speaks to Stiles on the front porch.

“Now’s not a good time,” Stiles says. He sounds almost angry, but Derek doesn’t have the energy to wonder why.

“Your dad told me you’ve been staying here,” Scott replies.

“Yeah,” Stiles says shortly. “Why are you here?”

“Why are _you_ here?” Now Scott is angry too.

“What do you mean, why am I here?” Stiles asks defensively, and Derek can picture him crossing his long arms over his chest.

“I mean why are you hanging out with Derek Hale all of a sudden? Why do you look so tired? Are you sick or something?”

Stiles laughs but it’s not the bright, twinkling noise that Derek is used to; it’s disbelieving and a little harsh and a hundred other emotions that bear no resemblance to humor. “Are you fucking serious, Scott?”

Scott sounds confused as he lowers his voice and asks, “Did Derek do something to you?”

Derek can hear Scott’s nose break under the force of Stiles’ fist and the surprised whimper that he makes when Stiles hits him again. 

“What the hell!”

“I’m so fucking over this bullshit,” Stiles snarls, meaner than Derek has ever heard him be to his best friend. “You didn’t notice that I basically disappeared for a month but you show up here and accuse _Derek_ of hurting me? Derek is the only reason I’m still fucking alive!”

Scott is silent while Stiles rants at him, but Derek can hear the way his heartbeat stutters at Stiles’ outburst. “What do you mean he’s the reason you’re still alive?”

It’s quiet for a long moment. 

“I was planning to kill myself.” 

Stiles says it matter-of-factly, like he hasn’t just blown a huge, gaping hole in Derek’s already-crumbling universe. For the first time since Mia disappeared, Derek feels something other than empty. He can picture Stiles, alone in his room, planning to relive one final memory before he takes himself out of the world that’s been so cruel to him. 

Derek’s heavy body is heaving itself off the bed involuntarily. It takes him longer than it should to stumble through the house, his movements clumsy and his joints stiff from disuse, but he puts one foot in front of the other until he’s standing at the open front door. Stiles’ back is to him but Derek can see Scott’s utterly wrecked face, the drying blood from where Stiles hit him only adding to the expression of sheer horror he’s wearing.

The other werewolf’s eyes flick to Derek and pause on him, taking in what he knows must be a similarly terrified look on his own face. Derek bores holes into the back of Stiles’ head with his shifted eyes until the man slowly turns around.

“You’re up,” he says, surprised, and Derek tries to reconcile that tender voice with the one that just admitted to contemplating suicide. 

His arms are around Stiles before he can think about it, holding him tightly enough that for a split second he’s worried Stiles can’t breathe. But then the younger man exhales into Derek’s shoulder and his arms come up around him to return the embrace.

“You can’t leave.” Derek’s voice is brittle and cracked and it’s not the forceful command he wants it to be.

“I won’t,” Stiles says. “I won’t leave you.”

Derek only tightens his grip, grasping for every inch of Stiles that he can get his hands on while he tries to reassure himself that the man is still there – still real. 

Scott clears his throat and Derek looks up at him but doesn’t release Stiles. Their eyes meet over Stiles’ shoulder and whatever Scott sees there must convince him that Derek has it handled, because he gives one short nod and then swings a leg up over his bike and is gone.

They practically carry each other to bed, the weight of the world shouldered between the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispers from under the cocoon of blankets.

“Don’t be,” Derek says.

“But I am.”

Derek twists so that their noses are practically touching. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you to be here.”

Even in the dark he can see the spark of determination in Stiles’ eyes flicker back to life. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Derek leans forward the centimeter it takes to cover Stiles’ lips with his own. It’s soft and slow and far too brief, but when Derek pulls away he feels a few of the pieces of himself fuse back together.

Stiles doesn’t say anything, but he nudges his face into the crook of Derek’s neck and inhales deeply, like Derek is singlehandedly providing all the oxygen he breathes. It’s not the most comfortable position in the world, but Derek would rather take a bullet full of wolfsbane than separate even a millimeter from Stiles in that moment. They fall asleep wrapped up in one another, both of them for once sleeping soundly.

They still don’t talk about what exactly it is that they’re doing, but Derek spends the next morning helping Stiles load boxes of his things into the Jeep and then unpack them in Derek’s room. A week later he finds Stiles in the guest bedroom where Mia had stayed, drawing up plans for an office. They repaint the walls a sunny yellow and Derek spends an entire afternoon assembling Ikea bookshelves. Wolfy remains in a corner of the room, watching over them.

Scott starts coming over for drinks and then eventually dinners, often with Kira in tow. The Sheriff is there too when he doesn’t have to work and he still looks at Derek in that uncomfortably knowing way, like he can see right through to his very bones. Derek is learning to appreciate instead of fear it. 

Nothing is perfect; Derek still has days where he can’t make himself get out of bed, and Stiles still has nights when he wakes both of them up with his screaming. But it’s perfect in its imperfection, and things begin to steadily improve when they start going to the therapist that Lydia found for them.

It takes years before Derek can hear his baby sister’s name again without flinching, but that day comes too. 

Derek marries Stiles under a giant willow tree in the same backyard where they once played tag with Mia. It’s a short and relatively uninteresting ceremony with quick, heartfelt vows and too many flowers for Derek’s hypersensitive nose. Scott serves as Stiles’ best man, their friendship long since repaired although never quite how it used to be, and the Sheriff stands up with Derek. When Derek worries that his voice is going to fail him halfway through, the older man puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles at him so brilliantly that Derek thinks the force of it could power the whole city.

John does end up being an amazing grandfather, and Derek is happily proven right in his prediction that Stiles would be a great father. Derek tells their kids stories about their aunts and their grandparents, and on the days that he can’t talk about it Stiles picks up where he leaves off.

Every night they fall into bed and sleep pressed too close together and tangled in the sheets. Derek always feels safe.


End file.
